


Daze

by Mertiya, Zomburai



Series: The Mana Leak Coffee Shop [5]
Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, First Kiss, Gratuitous misuse of terrible flavor text, Jace philosophizes while drunk, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Ral copes by sighing, THEY'RE DORKS, Trans Jace, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 15:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13639461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya/pseuds/Mertiya, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zomburai/pseuds/Zomburai
Summary: I may have had a little bit too much to drink in the company of Asshole McHotCheekbones.





	Daze

“No, but like—” I’ve kind of forgotten what we’re arguing about. I look at the counter in front of me. That’s several empty glasses. Maybe that’s why. “All consciousness—all consciousnesses are one, separated by only a thin veil of the physical.” It sounds very impressive. For some reason, Ral does not appear impressed.

            “Okay, I think you need to go back to your dorm,” he tells me.

            “But why?” I whine. “I’m fine.”

            “Chandra warned me you were a lightweight,” Ral says, and he puts a hand on my upper arm, but although he’s rolling his eyes, the hand is very gentle. I close my eyes; I like the feeling, the soft, grounding, heavy weight of it and the tiny pokes of his fingers against the muscles in my shoulder. “And she said if you started spouting Asimov-levels of metaphysics, you were definitely drunk.”

            That sounds _way_ too coherent for Chandra. “I bet she didn’t,” I object. As objections go, it’s not my most eloquent.

            Ral waves a hand and grins at me. “I’m paraphrasing. Seriously, you are drunk as _shit_.”

            “M’not,” I object again, and I try to get up to prove my point. Oh, that’s the floor. Hello, floor.

            “Oy gevalt,” Ral sighs. He stoops over me and slides a hand underneath my back. I try to get up, because I’m pretty sure I wasn’t intending to be on the floor, but it keeps moving. It’s very hard to stand when things are moving underneath your feet.

            “Ouch,” I mumble. Holding onto Ral sort of helps, but as soon as I try to take a step I’m on the floor again.

            “Do I have to carry you back to the dorm?” Ral grouses.

            “Of course not.” Maybe I can crawl. It’s easier to keep my balance on my hands and knees.

            “Jace, no, it’s—fuck. Jace. Okay, up you get.” Ral’s hands on my waist. They’re warm. God, his hands are so warm. And also stupidly large. Ral has long-fingered, large hands, and—oops—I’m kind of flopping sideways and my shirt’s riding up, so his hands are sliding up my bare back. It feels nice. “Jace—are you—are you _purring_?”

            He’s moving again, and I try again to stand, but it doesn’t work. Then the lights are moving, blurring gold-dark past my vision, and I’m in Ral’s arms. Wow, okay. I didn’t know he was that strong. That’s kind of hot. Also, he looks a little bit exasperated as he bends over me, and his lips are right there, and also—also—

            He kind of tastes like alcohol. Although maybe that’s just me. I guess I did have a few drinks, didn’t I?

            I like his face. I should tell him that. “I like your face.”

            He’s trying to look angry, but I’m pretty sure he’s laughing. “Good fucking god, Jace. I like yours, too, but you need to head to bed, and I don’t think I physically _can_ haul your ass all the way back to your dorm.”

            “Aw.” I like Ral carrying me. I feel weightless and happy, as if the fizzing pressure that normally pushes down on my brain is gone. I rest my head against Ral’s shoulder, where I can smell the bottom of his hair. It’s a nice smell.

            “ _Christ_ , Jace, I will drop you.” He sounds a little breathless, and I like that, but I don’t want him to drop me, so I stop nuzzling.

            It’s warm, though, and if I just let my head drop a little farther, I can hear his heart beating beneath his chest. “Your heart’s really. It’s really fast.”

            “Yeah, well. I’ve had a lot of coffee today.”

            “Mmmm.”

            I’m drowsy and warm. The edges of everything seem very blurred and soft. I’m pretty sure we’ve left the bar; I don’t think it was raining in the bar. It’s not raining very hard, but I can see the fine mist gathering on Ral’s eyelashes and on his lips. Rainwater tastes nice, and so do Ral’s lips. They’re soft and a little cool underneath the thin veneer of moisture, and this time he kisses me back, one hand underneath my waist, one underneath my head.

            “I’ve got to let you down,” he says huskily, and there’s gravel underneath my feet, but his arm’s so tight around my waist that even the movement of the earth doesn’t dislodge me.

            “I really. I like you a lot.” It’s very important that he knows that.

            “Yeah, wow, Jace, I got that.” He’s laughing, and his shirt’s open, and I can see his collarbone. I want to see more of his collarbone all of a sudden. I find myself kissing across it shallowly, and Ral takes a swift, sharp breath.

            “Jace,” he says. “Jace, shit—okay, you’ve got to stop, we’re outside, and you’re drunk, and—” He swallows, and I don’t think I’ve seen him like this, before, stripped of sarcasm and oddly serious about something that’s not graduate-level physics or EE. “And I really like you, and I really don’t want to fuck this up,” he mutters. “And also if I’m going to fuck you senseless at some point, it’d be great if you remembered it in the morning. I don’t think my ego could survive the alternative.”

            I heave a sigh. I know he’s right—at least, he sounds right, and if Ral’s being serious, it’s probably serious. But I also kind of want to climb him like a tree, and it’s so rare that it’s that clear in my head. Being drunk’s supposed to muddle you, isn’t it? But all I’ve got is a kind of humming clarity. Gotta listen to Ral on this one, though. If I don’t think I’m drunk, I’m probably pretty drunk. But that means I think I _am_ drunk—does that mean I’m not? Physics is easier.

            “Consciousness is a _lie_ ,” I tell Ral sternly as he walks me underneath the flickering streetlights.

            “I want to see you tell that to Professor Mizzet with a straight face. Preferably tomorrow when he asks why my problem set’s not done.”

            “I will—I will—I could do your problem set for you.”

            “It’s QFT, you know,” Ral says.

            “I can do QFT. We did two weeks of it at the end of Quantum 2 last semester.”

            Ral snickers. “I’d love to see you try. Especially right now. No, don’t worry about it, I don’t think most of the class is going to finish.” He runs a hand through his hair, and I want to kiss it. The hand. Probably the hair as well. It occurs to me that I actually can. “Jace— _fucking_. _Christ._ ”

            “What?” I say innocently. I only sucked on his finger a little.

            “You know damn well what.” He threads his hand through my hair, and kisses me, short and sudden and fierce. Heat spikes in my stomach, and I can feel his back underneath my hand. I let the hand drop, and Ral intercepts it. “No, definitely not, no below the waist for you until you sober up,” he tells me, and I make a disappointed face again.

            “Where are we going?” We’ve been walking through the mist, and it’s kind of romantic, but I don’t think it’s the direction my dorm is in, unless I’m even drunker than I thought.

            “My apartment, if that’s okay with you. Your dorm’s pretty far.”

            I nod. I don’t think I’ve been to Ral’s apartment before. I’d like to see it. I’d like to do other things in it, but maybe not tonight. _Hands above the waist till you’re sober, Jace_ , I remind myself. This doesn’t stop me from leaning over and kissing Ral on the cheek, and then it becomes sort of difficult to walk again. That’s okay. I think I can make it, even if stuff is a little blurry. I’m sure will Ral help more if I need it.

 

~

            I’m warm and pretty comfortable, all things considered, if you don’t count the massive headache. I might have had too much to drink last night. My memories get pretty blurry towards the end, but I remember kisses in the rain and someone tucking me into bed. We didn’t have sex—Ral was pretty insistent about that, which is probably a good thing. I don’t need to have drunk sex ever again.

            There’s an arm flung loosely across my shoulders, though, and it occurs to me that it’s a twin size bed—not really big enough for two people, but here we are. Ral’s face is smashed into the back of my neck, and there’s a knee gently working its way up my back.

            Yawning makes my head twinge. I need four ibuprofen and a glass of water, but if I move I’m pretty sure I’ll throw up. Comfortable only goes so far when you had four glasses of rum on almost nothing to eat. I’m seriously wondering why I thought that was a good idea.

            I make a noise and squint over at the side of the bed, where it looks like there might be a glass of water. If only I could get there. I move a little, and that’s when I realize that—someone’s taken my binder off. _Shit_. What the fuck was I thinking, getting drunk and going home with someone that I haven’t told— _Fuck_.

            Forget nausea, I need to get out of here. I scoot towards the edge of the bed, and Ral makes a grumbling noise and pulls away. “You okay?” he asks, his voice slurring with drowsiness.

            “Um,” I say. “I’m fine, you know, probably should be getting home, uh. Sorry about the whole getting drunk and crashing in your bed thing, and, and, and—” I move too quickly; pain jolts through my skull, and I taste something sweet at the back of my mouth. Oh, shit—

            I’m doubling over, and then I’m on the floor—at least I’m not on the bed, it’s easier to clean up a floor than a bed—and oh, this is _vile_. This is really unpleasant. I didn’t need this, and I’m pretty sure Ral didn’t need this. I am such a goddamn mess.

            “Jesus,” Ral says from behind me. “Okay, you are definitely _not_ all right. I didn’t think you had that much in your stomach to throw up.”

            I’m whimpering. Last night was so nice, and today is so lousy, and I’m pretty sure I’ve now ruined any chance I had at a proper relationship with Ral roughly three times over. “Sorry,” I manage. “Give me a minute, and I’ll clean it up.”

            “Get back into bed.” Ral grabs my shoulder and tugs. “You idiot. I’ll clean it up this time, and you can pay me back when you’re not about to keel over and die from a hangover.”

            I start to get up and blinding pain surges through my head. “Ouch,” I whimper. “Ouch.”

            “Or maybe you should just sit there.” Ral sighs. “Hold on.”

            I want to get up, but I really can’t; I sink back against the bed. A moment later, and Ral is holding a glass at my mouth. “Here. Sip.”

            Dutifully, I sip. The tang of orange juice washes out the sour taste of bile. “I’m not a girl,” I blurt, staring down at the glass.

            “Uh,” Ral says. “Yeah. What?”

            “The, uh, you took off—”

            “Your…binder? So you wouldn’t have to sleep in it? Yeah, you kind of came out to me last night. Probably the right call, since sleeping in a binder isn’t a great idea. I did that once and fuck did my ribs want to kill me in the morning.”

            He doesn’t mind? It’s hard to think through the headache, and I’m actually shivering. Wait, I came out last night? Why did I think that was a good idea? I don’t remember coming out. But—I remember feeling safe. God, I felt so safe last night. I don’t know when the last time I felt that safe was. I can’t even remember why.

            I curl my legs up onto the bed. “Sit here,” Ral says, sounding exasperated. “Sip the juice. I’d better clean up the vomit and get you some ibuprofen.”

            “I’m sorry,” I manage to mutter.

            “Just—” Ral makes an incomprehensible noise. “Just sit here. Stop moving. I don’t want to clean up any _more_ vomit.”

            I have to admit it’s a reasonable request. And if I move too much, I probably _will_ throw up again, so I sit and sip at the orange juice. It helps. A little. After a few minutes, Ral comes back with four ibuprofen and watches me while I swallow them, then mutters a few obscenities and stalks away to get some cleaning supplies.

            By the time he’s finished cleaning things up, I’ve also finished the orange juice. I set it down carefully. My headache is beginning to subside a little bit, although not much. “So…” I start awkwardly. “You don’t…mind?”

            “Huh?” Ral looks up at me. “Yeah, I mind. I don’t like cleaning up vomit on a Sunday morning! Next time, tell me that you’re about to be sick and I’ll get you a bucket so you don’t throw up all over my floor. Why the fuck did you think getting up was a good idea anyway?”

            “I, um.” I stare at the empty orange juice glass. “I just. I guess. I got worried. About not having my binder on.”

            “Then next time. Ask me. And I’ll give it to you. It’s not fucking rocket science, Jace.”

            I manage a half-grin. “I know. I’m pretty good at rocket science.”

            Ral groans. “I asked for that.” He sits on the bed beside me, almost casually. “You, uh. Did you hear what I said earlier okay?”

            “Yeah, I think so. What were you doing wearing a binder anyway?”

            Ral stares at me, then pinches the bridge of his nose as if my words have somehow caused him physical pain. “Do they not teach logical inference in introductory computer science courses anymore? That was before I’d had top surgery.”

            “You…” My head twinges as my brain rearranges itself. “You—oh. Wait. _Oh_.” I stare at Ral for a long minute, and then I start laughing.

            “Well, I was going to tell you at some point,” Ral says peevishly, “but first you beat me to it, and then you threw up on my floor.”

            “I can’t believe—” I’m going to throw up again if I can’t stop laughing. I lean sideways against Ral and take several long, deep breaths. “I’m sorry for throwing up on your floor,” I say. “And I’m sorry for panicking. I guess I’m not sorry for being drunk around you, though?” Which is something I wasn’t expecting to say, and, unexpectedly, the feeling of safety from the previous night returns.

            “I’m also sorry you threw up on my floor,” Ral sulks, but he slips an arm around my shoulders. “Have I mentioned today that you’re an idiot?”

            “I’m not sure,” I reply. “Maybe you should mention it again.”

            “You’re an idiot,” he says promptly.

            I think about this. “Maybe you should also kiss me again. I’d like to kiss you sober, I think.”

            Ral eyes me sideways. “Promise you won’t throw up in my mouth?”

            I lean towards him cautiously. “Eighty-five percent?”

            “Eh, I like to live dangerously.”

            He kisses me. I don’t throw up. Ral’s hand lands on the small of my back, and I curl into him. I am not going to lie. Despite the vomit and panic, this day has started out pretty well.


End file.
